


Order Fulfillment

by Repeatinglitanies



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Mention of Cannibalism, Mention of Mass Murder, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Sexual Trafficking, Moral Ambiguity, mentions of human trafficking, modern day slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Repeatinglitanies/pseuds/Repeatinglitanies
Summary: Fiveya Week Day 5 Prompt: GuiltEverything had gone wrong for Vanya since the day her parents died.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 14
Kudos: 36
Collections: fiveya week (round 2)





	Order Fulfillment

Everything went wrong the day Vanya’s parents died in a car accident. Not only did she lose her parents, she also lost the only people who ever cared about her. Vanya’s aunt and uncle took her in only to treat her like a full time maid. And when their money began to run out after years of dissolute spending, they started borrowing. First from legitimate financial organisations. But when those institutions started closing their doors to the couple, they started borrowing from not-quite legal sources.

Her aunt and uncle had foolishly thought they could outsmart their lenders. But they had seriously underestimated the sheer brutality and ruthlessness of the people they chose to do business with. Eventually, Aunt and Uncle were forced to pay. But because their possessions were not enough and they had no marketable skills to speak of, Vanya’s aunt and uncle were made to pay with their very lives and with Vanya herself.

Much later, Vanya would find out that her aunt and uncle’s organs were harvested in payment for their unpaid loans. Some organs sold for a lot of money. While those that couldn’t were left to rot.

Under different circumstances, she might have shed tears for them despite their cruel treatment of her. But being sold to The Captain as one of his many “products” was a hard life. Vanya quickly learned at her young age that there was no time for tears. That was only an invitation for a beating. The guards would simply reason that having the energy to cry meant that the slave was wasting energy that could be used for work.

The Captain’s slaves were mostly acquired for manual labour. But he wasn’t one to waste an opportunity if it presented itself. If a child was deemed pretty, they would be given a lighter workload. Though the understanding was that the aforementioned child would be sold for sex upon reaching puberty. 

Apparently, The Captain had no qualms with buying and selling people like cattle to work in the many fields and factories he or his associates owned. He also had no problems selling them for sex as long as they had reached what he deemed to be their “sexual maturity.” 

Not that it made him any better than his competitors. The Captain deemed sexual maturity to be at twelve years old for boys (who will be sold immediately in fear that their delicate features and beauty would fade faster as they matured into men). And for girls (who would be kept longer to be “polished” before being sold at a much higher price than the boys due to their ability to bear young and thus a future generation of slaves), they were mature as soon as they started menstruating.

And in quarters as cramped as the one Vanya first occupied, there was no room for privacy. With about ten to twenty other people in one small space, they slept in the same room and bathed together. If a girl started bleeding, someone was bound to notice. Just as someone was bound to tell. 

It didn’t even matter how young the girls were. As long as it was fine by The Captain, they would be put on the auction block. Those that didn’t get picked by the time they were in their twenties stayed as the Captain’s labour slave. 

Those that did never came back again. Not that they would even want to.

Vanya knew that there was nothing inherently better between being forced to do backbreaking labour or being forced to be a vessel for sexual gratification for the rest of the slave’s life. Both were horrible in both similar and different ways. 

And yet, she felt a sigh of relief each day when she found her undergarments clean, at least of menstrual blood. When it still didn’t come when she turned sixteen, Vanya was sure that it would never come. 

Not that she didn’t hate her current predicament. There was little joy to find when one’s day was filled with monotonous, repetitive work, when one ate ravenously simply due to hunger and when the only thing to look forward to was sleep until one was woken up again at the same time the next day, every day to begin the same work over again.

And that was considered a good day. The not-so-good days happened when some of the guards wanted to have “fun” with the slaves. Or when some of the other slaves decide they didn’t like another slave, or claimed to like another slave a little too much.

In an environment that openly allowed the strong to prey upon the weak, someone as small and timid as Vanya would have been a prime target. Thankfully, she had an ally of sorts in Hazel.

Hazel was the most intimidating of The Captain’s guards. Vanya had seen him snap the neck of both slaves and fellow guards alike. He never did so indiscriminately. And he didn’t seem to enjoy what he did. But he would follow orders even if he didn’t want to.

It left Vanya in a position where she wanted to trust him and yet be unable to let go of her wariness. 

On more than one occasion, Hazel had saved her from being attacked and possibly raped. But Vanya couldn’t be sure if it was simply because he was just protecting the merchandise or if he actually had some sympathy for her.

Foolishly, she asked him about it once. It was during the few breaks she was allowed.

And Hazel told her of his wife Agnes and their daughter. How he lost them in a fire and how she sometimes reminded him of them.

Vanya wasn’t sure she believed him. It was at the tip of her tongue to ask him to help her escape. But then as if the word “escape” was a signal, she would remember the last time a slave tried to run away. And what Hazel did to her. 

Her attempt to beg for help would then die before the words could even have a chance to escape her mouth. Hazel might have protected her in his own way. But that was as far as he would go in the name of his wife and daughter’s memories. 

Saving her from bullies and rapists was his way of feeling less guilty about working for a slave owner. Hazel wasn’t interested in helping her. What he did for her was simply him doing something for himself.

Then again, how was she to know for sure? Vanya never did find it in her to ask him for help. Vanya told herself it was because she didn’t want the risk of Hazel finding out she was contemplating escape, if it so happened that Hazel was firmly committed to his job. But she had a sinking feeling that she didn’t bother asking because she wanted to keep the illusion that Hazel was her friend. If she ever asked him and he said no, Vanya would have to confront the uncomfortable truth that she was truly alone. And that if she died, no one would mourn her, much less remember her.

So Vanya kept silent and went back to work.

Not long after she turned eighteen, the blood came. And there was no way of hiding it. Soon enough, guards took her to see The Captain.

Under normal circumstances, girls that have matured would have been taken out of rotation for manual labour and given an “easier” life. They would be scrubbed clean until the dirt and grime completely washed off of their face, hair, skin and nails. They’d be taught to put on make-up and wear clothes that made them look much older. And finally, they’d be told what prospective buyers expected of them, things they most likely already know given how guards and other slaves treat the weakest of slaves.

And within the span of a few weeks to a few months, they would be sold to the highest bidder, never to return to The Captain again and expected to fulfill their new owner’s every whim.

At least that was what Vanya had heard as a slave that worked in The Captain’s fields during the hot seasons and in his factories during the cold ones. She soon found out that there was more to it than that.

While it was true that pretty girls who menstruated were intended to be sold for sex, she also found out that they were separated into two tiers. Tier 1 girls were intended for The Captain’s wealthiest clients. The ones that The Captain considered to be beautiful and intelligent. They were the girls who slept inside the main house and were educated enough to not embarrass their prospective owners, who usually had these girls escort them to important functions as well as serve their other needs.

They were called the “Lucky Ones.” Because they were the ones expected to live a comfortable life for as long as their owners wanted them. The Lucky Ones did not have to get up in the early hours of the morning to do the same monotonous, backbreaking labour that the others did. They got better food and slept in more comfortable beds.

Vanya was classified as a Tier 2 girl. Part of the group sold either individually or en masse to various businesses and organisations or less wealthy clients for a considerably lower price than Tier 1 girls. Tier 2 girls weren’t as pretty. And they weren’t considered fast learners or seen to have the potential to be “diamonds in the rough.” Vanya’s looks were considered not up to the standards of The Captain’s VIP customers. 

Besides, her melancholic demeanour gave the impression that she had no charm whatsoever. Something that would have turned off most VIPs given that no customer would want to be reminded that their companion had to be bought to enjoy their company, or at least do a good job at pretending to enjoy their company.

As with all girls who have started their monthly courses while under The Captain’s ownership, Vanya had to sit and stand still as she was checked and prodded by a doctor (The Captain had a reputation of providing healthy “products”). After which, she would be cleaned and forced to wear make-up, her hair made to look smooth and glossy and her shape to look curvier than it really was. At least, long enough for her photo to be taken. 

And then she was sent back to work. Unlike Tier 1 girls who didn’t have to perform any sort of physical labour, Tier 2 girls were expected to at least perform “lighter” duties. Meaning that girls in Vanya’s tier worked as house servants until they were sold. 

So for the foreseeable future, her workload would be easier, relatively speaking (The Captain did not believe in letting his products be idle) with a lot less gruelling working hours. All the better to make sure the environment and fatigue didn’t waste whatever beauty and youth was left to Vanya while she could still be sold for more money than what she could earn him with her own two hands for the rest of her life. However, long or short that may prove to be. 

Being on the market as a Tier 2 girls also meant that Vanya also got better food and more time to sleep. Her sleeping quarters were better. It was certainly not as cramped having to share a room with four other women when before, she couldn’t even move for fear of waking the other people sleeping side by side in her old “room.” Unlike Tier 1’s who had their own rooms in the main house, Tier 2 girls slept in a “dormitory” which was a smaller building detached from the main house.

Given that more time and energy, a braver person might have used the chance to find a way to escape. But Vanya couldn’t remember ever being brave. If she ever had been, then her aunt and uncle and then the guards had certainly beaten it out of her. And just because no one would use corporal punishment for fear of damaging her didn’t mean she would not face dire consequences if she ever tried to escape.

For those in Vanya’s current position of dubious favour, there was the cell. It would be more aptly described as a well where failed escapees would be lowered into and kept in for days without human contact. 

The prisoners would still be fed. And guards were under strict instructions not to bother the prisoner in any way.

But Vanya didn’t think being in the cell was any better than being beaten. Because the prisoners of the cell never did come out all right. None of them ever wanted to be placed back there. Some never attempted escape again. Those that did try but were again caught had killed themselves before going back in there.

On her first few days in her new “role”, Vanya was a ball of anxiety thinking that she could be dragged away at any moment, placed in a cage and transported to a new owner like some exotic animal. Not that she thought her current situation was actually better. Just that it was familiar and she could live with what was familiar.

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, Vanya began to think that she’d never be sold while the other girls that shared her room disappeared to be replaced by a new girl. She even thought to prepare herself to go back to work in the fields and the factories.

The Captain never took back what he sold. But what he couldn’t sell, he’d find a way to make use of. Those that could still work were put to work. And those that couldn’t were either killed outright or “scrapped for parts” like her aunt and uncle.

Since Vanya could still work, her path seemed clear. That is, until the day came when she and the other Tier 2 girls were told to put on new uniforms and clean every nook and cranny of The Captain’s Main House. 

Vanya could sense that something big was coming, given the manic energy pervading everyone. But it wasn’t her place to ask questions, no matter how much she wanted to make sense of what was happening around her.

As it so happened, her curiosity was mostly satisfied when she saw activity in the east wing where the Tier 1 girls were kept. 

The rose gardens were just outside the East wing and she just happened to be the one tasked with getting more of the flowers. She supposed that The Captain wanted to impress his guests for the auction, which was peculiar given that he had never before held the auction at his home.

The girls would always be transported somewhere else to be bought by his customers. For the Captain, who had always been extremely selective about the guests he allowed into his home, it meant something. But Vanya wasn’t sure what.

“Vanya, what are you doing there?”

As if in some subconscious answer to the question, she dropped the bouquets that the gardeners had already arranged for her. But in spite of that, Vanya was glad to hear Hazel’s voice. He must have been making his rounds. 

And yet, he took the time to help her pick up the bouquets. Maybe it was that kindness that gave her the courage to dally and satisfy her curiosity.

“Do you know why The Captain is holding an auction here?”

At first, Hazel looked confused, clearly not knowing what Vanya was talking about. But after a quick glance at one of the windows of the east wing, he figured it out.

“No auction. But The Captain’s guest is looking for a wife. So The Captain wants to be the one to sell her to Mr Hargreeves.”

_________________________

Vanya had never heard of the Hargreeves family before that day. From what Hazel told her, they were wealthy but not the sort to be talked about in society papers or tabloids. They made it an art form to be under the radar. But in the case that they do incur notice, those that might decide to make their name known were either paid off or made to disappear. So Hargreeves was not a family name well-known to the public.

But in The Captain and Hazel’s world of underground dealings and shadow manipulators, the Hargreeves family had a long established notoriety. Foremost of which was their deadly family dynamics in which the head of the family fathered (or mothered in the event a woman headed the family) as many children as possible. Instead of marrying wealthy heirs or heiresses, it was a long-standing tradition to just buy slaves to bear future children.

So when Hazel had told Vanya that Mr Hargreeves was looking for a wife, he meant a “wife” in the loosest terms. There would be no actual wedding ceremony. Just (usually) a girl who would be chosen to endure multiple pregnancies until she could no longer do so. No one really knows what happens to the girl afterwards.

The same could arguably be said of her children. No one outside the Hargreeves manor really knows what becomes of the many Hargreeves children before or after a new head of the family succeeds the old one. The only remaining pertinent facts are that only one becomes family head. And the others are never seen or heard from again. Just as it remains a fact that no Hargreeves head ever retires from their position. The announcement of a new head always goes hand in hand with a funeral.

It had long been alleged and theorized that all Hargreeves children undergo difficult, even Spartan, training that progressively becomes even deadlier than the last. Rumours say that the training only stops when only one child is left alive. And that the only way to succeed the coveted position of family head was to kill the previous head.

But again, those were only rumours. No one ever asked Reginald Hargreeves about it to his face and lived to see another day. People thought that they could get away with it when his son Quentin became head. 

It was certainly considered bad manners, especially given that (the only time hey did it) they were guests at Quentin’s party. But Reginald Hargreeves was a hard man. No one imagined anyone, not even his own son, could surpass the old man’s ruthlessness. But Quentin proved them wrong when he picked up an axe and buried it on the heads of the ones that dared to offend him.

________________________

If there had ever been a time when Vanya had envied the Tier 1 girls, then she took it back right at the moment she heard about The Captain’s guest from Hazel. All this preparation and care taken just for that one guest meant that Quentin Hargreeves was a powerful man. 

But if Hazel’s story was to be believed, he was also a very dangerous man who could kill people at a blink of an eye with little to no repercussions. He may be looking for a girl to bear his children. But as soon as he got what he wanted from them, there was nothing to stop him from disposing of one female slave.

Vanya didn’t think The Captain would bother to tell the Tier 1 girls just who they might be sold to. And she felt so sorry and horrified for them. A part of her wanted to warn them, help them somehow. Or at least do something. But what would that accomplish? There was nowhere to run or hide to.

To be honest, Vanya was surprised she’d actually care what happened to them. She didn’t know any of those girls. She hadn’t even talked to them. How could she forget the lesson she learned in her first few days as a slave? She had to remember to mind her own business. The last time she had tried to interfere, the person she was trying to help only ended up getting more beatings. Vanya herself wasn’t spared from the same punishment.

She would only bring herself unnecessary suffering if she did anything. Besides, there was no conceivable way she could help. So after saying her goodbyes to Hazel, she went back to work.

In the end though, her anxiety over the Tier 1 girls proved unneeded. They went into the banquet hall with all the finery and regalia The Captain had made them wear only to all be sent out, as if they were cast out.

Never had Vanya seen the poised and graceful Tier 1 girls scurrying (some even running) as far away from the hall as possible.

She and the other Tier 2 girls had been on their way to provide food and other refreshments. But at the sight of the Lucky Ones’ exit, they were at a loss whether to continue on their course or to bring their trays back to the kitchen.

They didn’t have to wait long to find out what their marching order would be.

To their surprise, The Captain himself exited the banquet hall to approach them. Each step he took was a deafening moment of silence for Vanya. She wouldn’t be surprised if the other girls thought so as well. Because there they were stock still with platters of food on hand waiting for The Captain to come to them when it was supposed to be the other way around.

They were the ones who were supposed to anticipate his needs and approach him to ascertain if there was any service he required. Vanya briefly wondered if they would be punished for this breach in protocol. They didn’t deliver the food fast enough and would already be in trouble for that. Have they simply compounded things by just standing there?

She could tell that the other girls were thinking the same thing. Some of them were already starting to kneel in the hopes that groveling for mercy might spare them.

But instead of declaring what horrors they’d have to endure for their “dereliction of duty,” The Captain merely motioned for the Tier 2 girls, all of whom were in housemaid uniforms, to stay still.

“Our guest didn’t like the Tier 1 girls. Mr Hargreeves found them too delicate for his liking. So I’m presenting all of you to him. He’s not a patient man. So this will happen in the next few seconds. And I warn all of you, do not displease him. Whatever he asks of you, you do immediately. Should you be chosen, you’d be well taken care of. The man has money and power to ensure you live in comfort for the rest of your life. But make sure you don’t disgrace my name by betraying him in any way. I could tell you what I’d do to you if you did. But knowing Mr Hargreeves, that won’t be necessary. Even as a boy, he had always been a monster. When he was fifteen, he happened to be the only survivor of a shipwreck. It took months to rescue him. Do any of you know how he survived months alone out at sea?”

The Captain gave a very pregnant pause as Vanya and the other girls remained silent in rapt attention.

“He survived because there were other survivors with him on the lifeboat.”

Vanya didn’t understand. The Captain had said that Mr Hargreeves was the only one who was rescued. 

“He was stuck on a lifeboat for months. And food was in short supply. Even at a young age, young Mr Hargreeves had always been a pragmatist. So to survive, he killed and then ate his companions.”

____________________________

Vanya wanted to run away. Just drop her tray and run away. She was sure the other girls felt the same way too. But what could they do? Even if they gave in to the impulse, someone would catch them and then bring them back. If they weren’t chosen, they’d be thrown to the cell. 

In the end, Vanya’s measure of the situation said that she had the best chance of being alright by simply complying to The Captain’s orders. It wasn’t as if Mr Hargreeves would choose her. There were a lot of prettier, better girls than her.

So there was nothing to worry about. She’ll simply stand where she was bid, do what she was told, and when it was over, things would be back to normal.

But then again, her normal was simply a familiar kind of hell. And a temporary one at that. Right now, her situation only seemed better because it was a transitional, subject to change at any time, whether due to being sold to a new owner or being deemed better off back in manual labour. 

Her present life was a life that didn’t have any desirable future. Even if she managed to avoid the savage Mr Hargreeves, who was to say she won’t get sold to an even worse owner?

Because if there was anything that the life of a slave had taught her, it was that things could always get worse.

Somehow, she had to find a way to escape or die trying. Vanya definitely didn’t want to die. She had endured ten years as a slave because of that. So a part of her marveled at the thought of escape and risking death for that chance. 

But could she truly live with more years of being treated as nothing more than a thing? In the brief moment it took to go into the banquet hall, arrange the platters of food on the table and then stand at attention as The Captain spoke to his guest, Vanya decided that she would try to escape. If an opportunity came to leave this place, she would take it no matter what happened.

All the girls kept their gaze away from the guest and focused on the marble floor. It was part training and part fear that had them staring down instead of looking straight at Mr Hargreeves. In everyone’s mind, including Vanya, Mr Hargreeves was a monster. And they’d have an easier time forgetting him if they never got the chance to actually lay eyes on him.

Vanya and the other girls stood stock still as Mr Hargreeves looked over each girl while The Captain followed close behind him. Vanya didn’t know how she kept herself from shaking in fear. But she was grateful for it. Not that anything could have stopped her heart from beating as if she had run a marathon.

She could hear the tapping sounds of shoes on the marble floor. And it seemed as if her heart beat louder as she heard the tapping coming ever closer to her. 

A part of her wanted to close her eyes, as if the act of not seeing a predator would somehow render her invisible to him. But she kept herself from doing so out of some rare moment of futile bravery.

For a man with a reputation of savagery, Quentin Hargreeves had an impeccable taste in footwear. 

“You told me these girls were stronger than your Tier 1 girls, Carmichael. But I don’t see how. When I told you I didn’t need eye candy, I also told you I needed someone who’s at least strong enough to bear children. At least five children. These girls look so malnourished that they might die before I even get the chance to fuck any of them.”

The voice belonged to a man that was sure of himself. Someone who was used to being obeyed, to being feared. 

And Vanya knew then and there that it was a voice that would haunt her for the rest of her life. That she didn’t need to see a monster’s face to fear him. 

“Quentin, I mean, Mr Hargreeves please! I assure you that these girls are in the peak of health. I can’t promise that one girl can give you five healthy children given how childbirth is still risky even at the best of times. But I’m sure you’ll get at least five children if you purchase five girls.”

The sound of the soles on the marble floor came closer, which only heightened her anxiety. The rational side of her brain kept reminding her that there was nothing to fear from Quentin Hargreeves. There was no way he would choose her. So there was no reason for her fear. 

On the other hand, this was the first time she had ever heard The Captain, who Mr Hargreeves had called Carmichael, sound so nervous, subservient even. As if he were nothing more than a slave in the presence of an owner. 

“As you know Carmichael, this is the first time I, or if you would prefer, the Hargreeves family have chosen to patronise your….services. My predecessors traditionally went to The Handler for help in the child-bearing department. But I’ve decided to break from long-established traditions to come to you instead. My family is well-aware of the quality of The Handler’s girls, after all my human incubator was once one of them. However, I’m only about to find out about the quality of yours. So, one is enough. For now.”

How can anyone refer to their mother as a human incubator? And to say it as if he were merely stating a fact no different than saying that the sky is blue or the earth is round. Quentin Hargreeves didn’t seem human at all. Vanya could only hope she wouldn’t recognise the girl he chooses. She didn’t think she could take another added detail to her imminent nightmares.

“You’ve chosen a girl?”

“Yes, I’ll take this one.”

At first, Vanya couldn’t understand. Why did two pairs of shoes stop right in front of her? Why hadn’t they moved on to the other girls?

And then she saw a hand that went on to hold her by the chin and lift her head to gaze into dark green eyes that studied her as if she was to be his next meal. It was a good thing she had woken up late, that she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the night before. Or else, she would have made a mess of the polished white floor.

_________________________

He wished he were the heartless monster everyone made him out to be.

Quentin chose not to acknowledge the prickling sensation in his chest as he ordered the girl, Vanya, to remove her clothes to show him her scars. He had spared her further humiliation by ordering the other girls and Carmichael out of his own banquet hall. 

Briefly, he contemplated rescinding the order. However, Quentin knew that Carmichael had cameras installed everywhere. And he couldn’t afford to break character. Not if he wanted to maintain a veneer of strength when Vanya made him weak.

The truth was that he wasn’t interested in continuing the family line at all. What was the point of siring and raising multiple children trained to take over the family business until one somehow managed to outlast the rest? What was the point of fathering your would-be killer? 

Quentin wasn’t a superstitious man. But he would be a fool not to see the historical pattern. He killed his own father to take his place just as Reginald Hargreeves killed his predecessor before him. 

It was an unending cycle. Quentin tried to break away only to have the ship he had boarded sink to the bottom of the ocean, leaving him with other survivors stuck at sea with only each other for company. 

There had been no water or food for days. And sea water provided little to no sustenance.

Everyone tried to maintain their facade of humanity. But with Quentin being the youngest and therefore misconstrued as the weakest of the remaining passengers of the ill-fated ship, Quentin knew that it was only a matter of time. If he didn’t act, he would be dead and nothing more than food.

So he chose to go without sleep. And with lifelong training behind him, Quentin silently dispatched his other companions as soon as the last one fell asleep. Some he ate. 

But he knew that he couldn’t possibly consume it all before decomposition set in. He couldn’t be sure when he’d see land or rescue anytime soon either. So he used the others' remains as bait for other types of food.

He survived. But in doing so, he came to realize that he could never fit into the normal world. So he went back to his father. But not without the knowledge that Quentin would one day outlast whatever horrors his father unleashed upon him and his siblings. And then, he’d put his father out of everyone’s misery.

Of course, that promise came at a price. Quentin had to put up with his father’s lessons, his hellish training and his missions. 

If Quentin was to one day lead men, he was expected to know every facet of the job Quentin would hopefully order them to do once he was in charge. Thus, Reginald had him start by making his kills look like accidents. Then, Quentin graduated to learning how to dispose of bodies, making sure that corpses disappeared without a trace. So much so that his victims’ family and friends would never know if their loved one died or simply walked away from them.

By then, Quentin had learned to mute whatever conscience had remained in him. He took out anyone he was given orders to kill. And he took pride at how efficiently he could kill, how elegant it could be when seen in a certain light.

Quentin took no pleasure in seeing the light go out of people’s eyes. He didn’t even see the point in delighting in his victim’s fears. But that didn’t necessarily mean he lost sleep over taking a child from its parents or vice versa. 

As long as they were on his list, Quentin showed no mercy. To do so was to die. And that wasn’t Quentin being overdramatic. His brother Ben had been the first to go because he was too soft. So when Ben came back to the manor after a failed mission, Reginald killed Ben himself as an example to the rest.

Quentin always remembered Ben before every mission. Perhaps that was why he hesitated when it mattered most. 

The target had been in Quentin’s line of sight. All he had to do was press the trigger and his target’s brains would splatter all over his newly washed car. 

But for a brief second the target looked at the direction of his scope. Suddenly the face turned into Ben’s. And Quentin could not bring himself to shoot. 

The target got away without even learning of Quentin’s presence.

That should have earned him a death sentence by Reginald Hargreeves’ standards. But by some twist of fate, Quentin survived through no effort on his part.

His target’s car crashed into another car, killing everyone involved.

That should have been the end of it. Except his father found out what had happened. And instead of killing Quentin, Reginald did something worse. 

Quentin’s target killed a couple. That couple’s death left their daughter to the world’s tender mercies. Quentin’s inaction had inadvertently and unnecessarily made a girl an orphan. It shouldn’t have bothered him. Quentin was sure he had deprived many children of their parents, and by his own hands no less. But it was that one. That one time he decided not to do his fucking job was the one that haunted him. 

That should have been the end of Reginald’s torment. 

But the little girl, Vanya, seemed to have been hit with a case of extreme bad luck. Reginald’s employees supplied records of Vanya being made to sleep in a closet that was even smaller than she was, Vanya being locked in her aunt and uncle’s house while they spent money that was supposed to be for her upkeep, Vanya being forced to fend for herself and be at her relatives’ beck and call.

Not for the first time, Quentin wondered why he would be so affected by such an intimate knowledge of how his decisions sorely affected one small life. By rights, he should have gotten used to seeing other people’s pain and suffering. What was the difference with that one girl?

Yet, for some unknown reason, Quentin’s first instinct was to rush to her aunt and uncle’s home and take her away from that life. Maybe even take care of her.

But Reginald forbade it.

And to Quentin’s regret, he obeyed only to find Vanya missing a few months later. 

It took years to find Vanya again. Vanya was the only one that mattered to him. But the reality was that she was just one orphaned girl in a world full of them. By chance, he happened to look at Carmichael’s catalogue of girl’s for sale. And one happened to look like the little girl whose photo he had stared at every day for the past ten years.

And now, there she was in front of him. A part of him wanted to tell her that he was here to rescue her. But that would have been a lie. 

Without a word, she showed him the scars she had accumulated from years of being Carmichael’s property. And he knew that these were as much his fault as it was Carmicheal’s or his guards’ or Vanya’s relatives’. 

He could tell she was afraid of him. Carmichael or someone else must have told her about some of the anecdotes that made its rounds to both competitors or allies alike. If he had to guess, it would be a tie between his temporary maritime diet or his brief stint as an axe murderer. 

But he kept silent, spoke no words of reassurance and allowed her to drown in her fear of him.

Quentin had no desire to hurt her. And yet, he inevitably would. 

A good man would have taken her away from here and made sure she would be given the care and support needed to learn to live a normal life. But he couldn’t do that.

Quentin had five reasons not to. 

Reginald took six “wives” to bear him at least six children. The “unions” if it could be called that produced five boys and a girl. Quentin didn’t particularly care for the slaves that bore them, took the old man’s money and left their infants to the dubious care of an old man with delusions of grandeur. But he did promise his siblings to keep their birth mothers safe.

Quentin honestly did not understand why they would choose to care for women so unworthy of their concern. But a promise was a promise. He couldn’t change it even though Reginald found out about it and used it to control Quentin from the grave.

Pogo, ever Dad’s loyal servant, had told Quentin all about the old man’s final instructions. Produce heirs. If not, his siblings’ birth mothers will die before their time. And to add insult to injury, Reginald already selected the unwitting broodmare: Vanya.

So no, he wasn’t here to rescue her. Not exactly. He wanted to. But he cared more about fulfilling his promise to people long dead rather than actually helping her. He would continue to let her think he was a monster who wouldn’t care if he hurt her in the process of fucking her and screwing her over. All to make it easier on her to one day leave without one look back at the children she would bear him without her consent.

Quentin had taken and destroyed many lives. But nothing made that sensation in his chest sting more than when he was face to face with Vanya.

And yet, when the look in her eyes turned from glassy to resolved with determination, he felt a spark of something. Attraction and arousal rolled into one.

Quentin had to be careful. Or else, he might not even want to let her go.


End file.
